


i got my ticket for the long way 'round

by GreyishBlue



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Archery Teacher!Clint, Barton's Archery School, Bucky Barnes Has Panic Attacks, Competence Kink, Dating, Deaf Clint Barton, Dubious use of an archery range, First Meeting, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Lucky the pizza dog - Freeform, M/M, Recovering!Bucky, Rutting, Shooting Competition, Shooting Guns, Therapy Mention, Touch-Starved, everyone loves coffee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-09-29 12:14:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20435849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyishBlue/pseuds/GreyishBlue
Summary: Bucky finds a flyer for Barton's Archery School and lets his curiosity get the better of him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Winterhawk Bingo 2019 Square: Shooting Competition  
Title from Cups (Pitch Perfect's "When I'm Gone")  
I'm sorry I can't title.

The walk back from his therapist’s office feels darker and heavier than the light rain can really be blamed for, but Bucky glares his annoyance up at the sky anyway. ‘Have to get back into the world’ this and ‘isolating yourself isn’t going to help your healing process’ that. He wants to think ‘ _ What does she know _ ’, but he has to admit to himself that the lovely older lady usually is right, even if he hates hearing what she has to tell him half the time. So far her advice has been solid, and he’s really only angry at himself for feeling so off-kilter at the idea of putting himself out there. It’s been about half a year since the accident that left long scars running down his left arm and an ache in the bones whenever it got cold, or too hot... or he just used the arm too much. He huffs out another irritated sigh and tries to get his brain back out of the negative thought spiral. His eye catches on a slightly faded flyer, barely hanging onto a telephone pole, that must have been a garish purple at one time. 

“Barton’s Archery School!

Classes for all experience levels and ages available! Disability friendly, all are welcome! Let us teach you how to hit your mark!!”

Bucky chuckles at the truly obnoxious amount of exclamation points, and doodled arrows and targets absolutely covering the bits of the flyer that aren’t occupied by what appears to be hand written words. Whoever this Barton is, he’s certainly got a lot of enthusiasm. His curiosity piqued, Bucky copies down the address into his phone and is surprised to find he’s only a few blocks away from it. With a shrug he turns in the direction his phone indicates and wanders where it leads him. When he arrives, the phone dings a happy little sound and Bucky looks up to find himself in front of a coffee shop. His brow furrows in confusion until he manages to see a small sign with a familiar doodled arrow pointing around the back of the cafe. “This → way for Archery!!” it reads, still in that overly goofy way. He wonders how he’s managing to read so much personality into a few scribbled words, but whatever, it’s been a long day and he’s allowed. He stops into the shop first to grab himself a small coffee to warm his hands, then heads in the direction the sign indicates. 

Upon entering the building, Bucky is pleasantly surprised to find a well lit and clean looking archery range with a small scattering of folks in the lanes. A group of young children seem to be listening intently to a teen girl with long black hair as she lectures them on safety and the basic workings of a short bow. Everyone else seems to be focused on their own targets, and Bucky can see that the skill levels of the various archers differ wildly. A tall man with a mess of blonde hair is walking from one lane to another, offering advice or compliments, occasionally helping someone with their stance. He’s dressed in a purple shirt with “Barton’s Archery School!” on the back in fading lettering and a pair of black jeans with a truly impressive amount of holes scattered along the legs. 

Bucky fiddles near the entrance, a bit unsure if he should try to find maybe a reception desk or some kind of sign in sheet. Right as he’s gearing himself up to just leave, the blonde looks over and grins at him. Bucky stops abruptly, floored by the absolute sunshine in that grin, and  _ that’s kind of a weird thing to think about a stranger, Barnes _ . His moment of shock gives the other man time to bound over, and Bucky can’t help but catalogue every detail he couldn’t catch from across the room. A smattering of freckles across the probably-broken-before nose, two band-aids haphazardly placed on the left side of his face, the bluest eyes Bucky has  _ ever  _ seen, and purple hearing aids nestled behind his ears. All in all, the man now in front of him is drop dead gorgeous and  _ oh god he’s saying something pay attention stop staring at his mouth _ . 

“You interested in learning archery?” The man repeats easily once he sees that Bucky has snapped out of his little stupor. Bucky just nods, and the man reaches out a hand a little slowly, like he might have caught onto some of the reluctance in Bucky’s body language. “That’s great, you’re in the right place! I’m Clint Barton, welcome!” As Bucky takes his hand carefully, he realizes the guy talks just like he wrote out his posters, with exuberance in every word.

“I’m Bucky, and I uh… actually I know how to shoot? It’s just been a long time. Not since uh..” Bucky trails off, unsure how to explain and not really wanting to. Clint doesn’t bat an eye at the dropped sentence, just grins at him again and starts heading toward the equipment neatly stacked along one wall, waving his hand gently to indicate Bucky should follow. Bucky goes, dropping his empty coffee cup in a convenient bin on the way. Once they’re standing in front of the row of various sizes and styles of bow, Clint looks carefully at him before picking out one a bit nearer the larger end but not quite one of the longbows. Bucky tries to tell himself that Clint’s eyes hadn’t lingered on his thighs, but the blush fighting it’s way up bandaged cheeks isn’t helping him be convinced.

“This one should be alright for someone coming back into it after a while. Give her a try, let’s see what you’ve got.” Clint’s smile this time has a little mischief in it and Bucky grabs the bow easily, never one to back down from a challenge. Clint leads him to a lane furthest from the other students, and sets down a quiver of arrows near his feet once Bucky manages to remember the right stance. The nerves of being here and doing this settle into Bucky’s shoulders a little, but he fights through it and breathes deeply before settling into the old rhythm of nock, draw, release. The first few arrows go wide, one barely catching the edge of the target at the end of the lane. After a couple of shots he gets closer to the middle ring, and hears a soft huff behind him. He looks back to see Clint watching him, and this time when his eyes sweep slowly down and back up, there’s no mistaking that the guy is checking him out. 

_ Still got it, Barnes.  _ Bucky smiles over his shoulder and goes back to shooting, and with a point to prove his arrows find the target more easily. One or two are still off, but for the most part he makes a good showing. When the quiver is empty, Clint walks over to the target to retrieve the arrows and hands half of them back to Bucky. He laughs softly at the confused look this earns him.

“Up for some competition, Buck?” and wow, Bucky didn’t know his nickname becoming another nickname would send a shiver down his spine, but there it was. He nods and Clint saunters over to grab his own bow. Bucky absolutely takes the opportunity to check the blonde out, and doesn’t mind the knowing wink Clint throws him on the way back. They both take a minute to settle themselves in their lanes. Bucky lets himself slip into the quiet space in his head that helps him focus, and once Clint says “Let’s go!” he loses himself a bit in the familiar motions. The steady thwack of arrows hitting the targets feels calming, and he’s almost a bit put out when he reaches for another arrow to find that he’s shot them all. The cluster of arrows on his target looks lovely, almost all in or around the innermost ring, and Bucky smiles proudly. He glances up to Clint, who is watching him again, approval twinkling in those shining blue eyes. Then Bucky looks over at Clint’s target, and his mouth falls open in shock. Every arrow is tightly packed perfectly into the middle. If they had been any closer, Bucky is sure there would be some ridiculous Robin Hood situation going on over there. He tries desperately to will down his body’s sudden desire to sink to his knees, and definitely not in defeat.

“That’s some good shootin’, Buck,” Clint drawls in a fake-western accent as he drapes an arm gently across Bucky’s shoulders, “but it’s hard to out-draw the sheriff ‘round these parts!”

The giggle that bursts out of Bucky is absolutely not something he expects, but it feels amazing and warm under Clint’s arm, and he just grins at the taller man. “Yeah yeah. Betcha I could beat you with a rifle.” 

“Yeah? Let’s make it a date?” It’s the first thing that Clint’s said that seemed even a bit unsure, and Bucky hurries to assure him.

“Yes, definitely.” He lets a hand rest on Clint’s hip, gives it a gentle squeeze. “Maybe some coffee or lunch first, though?”

Clint’s laugh is bright and Bucky can feel the rumble of it through the side he’s got pressed against him. “After my own heart, I swear.” After a moment of what Bucky is sure someone else would describe as goofily looking at one another, they part a little reluctantly. “I’ve gotta go actually run this joint, let me grab your number?”

They exchange numbers and Clint waves a silly goodbye before he wanders over to help a student that seems to be struggling. Bucky retrieves his arrows and settles the borrowed equipment back in its place. He’s smiling softly as he starts the walk back to his apartment, a little skip in his step as he realizes his therapist was right again. Getting back out there feels pretty good. The date he’s managed to set up with a gorgeous blonde archer is going to be even better, he’s sure.


	2. i sure would like some sweet company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Clint go on a date!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Winterhawk Bingo Square: Competent Clint
> 
> and because it's hard to resist when people ask me for things.

Bucky’s next appointment with his therapist goes pretty well, overall. He’s glad to have a positive story to tell her, and he basks in the praise (even if he’s well aware you can’t get a good grade in therapy, it sort of feels like it.) Really, his whole week has been upbeat. Every time his phone jingles merrily in his pocket he grabs it and grins to find another text from Clint. They’ve been going back and forth exchanging jokes and learning little things about each other since they exchanged numbers. Bucky hasn’t quite gotten up the courage to actually set up their date, but the steady stream of increasingly adorable banter has him feeling more cheery than he has in a long time.

So far, he’s learned that Clint has a gorgeous one-eyed pizza thieving dog named Lucky. As soon as Bucky mentioned liking dogs, a flood of pictures of the mutt had almost overwhelmed his phone. He may have saved one of Lucky sprawled across Clint’s chest, but he’s not going to admit that to anyone. Bucky retaliated with a few of his favorite shots of Alpine, the small fluffy white cat that had decided to take residence with him when he left a window open during a rainstorm. She quickly proved his theory that cats choose their owners and not the other way around.

He’s also been semi-introduced to Clint’s one and only employee at the range, Kate. A quick-witted and deeply sarcastic young lady who stole Clint’s phone one evening to quote “Figure out what’s making Clint look all dopey at his phone”. Once Bucky got over the confusion of suddenly texting someone else with Clint’s number, he found himself getting along with her. She seemed a lot more down to earth than Clint, and Bucky didn’t mind the edge of protectiveness in her texts. Clint sometimes seemed to need a little protecting, with his habit of collecting injuries becoming more obvious with every story he told.

Bucky is wandering through his local park enjoying the morning-sun dappled paths and the relative quiet when his phone alerts him to another text. He opens it to find a picture of a two targets at the range, arrows clustered carefully to depict a cup of coffee on one and “Lunch?” on the other. He stands rooted to the spot, marveling at the skill it must have taken. A few beats pass before he realizes it’s actually a question he should answer, and he nearly fumbles his phone to the ground trying to type up a reply.

They arrange to meet at the coffee place in front of Clint’s range, and Bucky is glad he doesn’t have to find a new place today on top of settling the nerves that suddenly start winding around him at the thought of finally actually seeing Clint again. He spends the few hours he has to kill puttering around his apartment, picking out a different outfit three separate times, ‘ _ Becka would roast the hell out of you for this’, _ and messing with his hair over and over until he finally just pulls all the honey brown strands out of his face into a bun at the nape of his neck. Without much time to spare, he settles on a pair of well-worn jeans that are comfortable but tight enough to hopefully show off a little, a soft burgundy sweater that hugs his shoulders, and his favorite black boots. It’s not fancy, but he feels safe in the soft clothing and it helps to calm him some. 

The walk to the cafe is familiar, but Bucky still feels jumpy once he arrives. He’s still managed to get there early, and he settles himself into one of the big plush chairs near the quietest corner to anxiously wait. His eyes snap up from his phone when the bell rings above the door, and the sight of Clint stumbling over the door sill step drags a small smile out of him. Clint spots him and walks over, a sheepish grin across his features. Before he can unfold himself from the chair he’s curled up into, Clint is offering him one of his big calloused hands, and Bucky takes the help up easily enough. Everything about Clint, from the new set of bandages on the right side of his jaw this time, to the warmth of his hand and the glint in his eyes, sets Bucky at ease. 

“Long time no see, sniper boy!” Clint is all giddy energy and open joy, and Bucky finds it really hard to keep wallowing in his nerves in the face of all that positivity. 

“Well uh, just been so busy watching this new show some mook introduced me to. Dog Detectives, or something?” Bucky can’t help but burst into laughter at the absolutely scandalized look he earns from Clint.

“See if I buy you any coffee, you heathen!” Clint sticks his tongue out and tugs Bucky gently toward the counter, which is just about when Bucky realizes he’s still holding on to Clint’s hand. He finds himself amazed at how easy it is to touch Clint, or to let Clint touch him. With nearly everyone else outside of his own family, even casual touches feel a bit like reaching into a fire. It takes a soft squeeze from Clint to realize he’s a little lost in thought and the barista at the counter is staring expectantly at him. 

“Oh um. A small mocha, please?” Bucky hates that it comes out a question, but the barista doesn’t seem to mind, just turns back to Clint with the total. Clint does finally let his hand go to pay and get his change back, but when they wander over to the counter to wait on their drinks, he casually rests an elbow on Bucky’s shoulder with a grin. 

“Almost forgot you were perfect armrest height.” the tease in Clint’s voice is gentle, and his grin is even more devastating when it’s this close. Bucky doesn’t manage to put together a response between the blushing and pretend-indignant sputtering, and in another moment their drinks are ready. Clint makes a bee-line back to the spot Bucky had originally chosen and they settle in comfortably on the mismatched chairs. They sip their drinks in between banter that’s not-unlike their back and forth texting, just with a lot more lingering eye contact and soft smiles. 

Around the time that Bucky has gotten up the courage to hook his foot behind one of Clint’s ankles, Clint’s phone dings. He checks it quickly and absolutely beams before looking back up at Bucky. “You wanna come meet Lucky? Kate just brought him back and I gotta walk him or else she’s gonna be his favorite soon.”

“Yes!” Bucky says a little too loudly, but hey, he loves dogs, okay? And maybe Clint’s enthusiasm is a little contagious. Clint grabs both of their empty cups and tosses them into a trash can nearly halfway across the store casually. He turns back to Bucky with a wink, like he knows just how much that unerring skill gets under his skin. The walk over to Clint’s apartment is short and uneventful, and Clint keeps bumping their shoulders gently as they walk. Bucky enjoys every moment of it.

Meeting Lucky is amazing. The yellow mutt is just as filled with giddy energy as his owner, and begs for petting shamelessly. Bucky ends up happily on his knees rubbing a tummy and cooing baby-talk for a while before he remembers he’s actually in company and looks back up to Clint. Clint is staring down at the both of them with an awe-struck look on his face, but he shakes it off quickly to offer Bucky a hand up. The walk goes well, with a quick stop to toss a ball for Lucky in the park. They’re wandering back toward Clint’s apartment when a horn blares loudly from the intersection behind them, accompanied by the screech of brakes. 

Bucky realizes he’s shaking around the same time he realizes he’s on the ground again, mostly curled around Lucky but crying into his fur instead of petting him this time.  _ Oh god, you’re having a panic attack all over Clint’s dog, Barnes.  _ The gentle words coming from his side register as coming from Clint after a while, and Bucky reluctantly pulls his face back from Lucky to look over his shoulder at him. Clint is behind him, looking concerned but not freaked out, somehow radiating calm and smiling softly. He’s got both hands held out like he wants to touch Bucky but he hasn’t, he’s just there being solid and as comforting as he can manage while squatting on a sidewalk. The bulk of him does a good job at blocking out pretty much anything else around them. Between the golden fur under his hands and Clint’s reassuring smile, Bucky slowly gets his breathing back to some sense of normalcy. He can’t quite stop the shaking running through his hands and body, though, and he really doesn’t want to know what’s going to happen now that Clint has seen him like this. 

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, I ruined our date” Bucky finally manages to push the words out of his mouth, even though about half of them are said into Lucky’s fur, which earns him a big doggy lick up the side of his face. He starts to struggle to uncurl himself and to get back on his feet and is surprised to see Clint holding out a hand to help him again. 

“Hey, no. It’s okay, Buck, no worries.” Clint slowly and carefully offers his open arms to Bucky and after a moment of looking up at the taller man awestruck, Bucky just sags against him. They stand like that for a few moments, Bucky with his face tucked into Clint’s chest while the shaking settles into something more manageable. Clint rests his chin on the top of Bucky’s head and chuckles. Bucky feels the rumble of if all through Clint’s chest and glares up at him, a little scandalized.

“Are you laughing at me?” Bucky is most definitely not pouting, but he couldn’t prove it.

“No, no sorry! Just. You’re also really good chin rest height?” Clint looks sheepish, but he’s still got one arm wrapped around Bucky’s waist, and the other is rubbing soft circles across his back.

Bucky can’t help himself, the bark of laughter that escapes him sets Lucky off into a happy wiggle interspersed with some truly epic whines hoping for more petting. The two men step back from each other and Clint pats Lucky a few times before he’s pointing them all back in the direction they were walking. 

“I um. I don’t think I can handle lunch right now.” Bucky mumbles it, but Clint’s been watching him closely and manages to catch the admission anyway. 

“How about we just take Lucky back and watch something on tv?” Clint doesn’t look at all put out, and the easy way he’s taken everything that’s happened so far bolsters Bucky a little bit. He nods his acceptance of the plan, and is immensely glad the rest of the walk to Clint’s apartment is short. 

They end up sitting on Clint’s incredibly beat up couch that Bucky suspects had been partially purple at some point. Clint has an arm wrapped gently across Bucky’s shoulders and Lucky has decided that his feet are the best place to sleep. Bucky feels warm and held down, and a few episodes of Dog Cops in, he lets himself settle entirely into Clint’s side. It’s a stark difference to the panic of earlier, and Bucky is amazed to find that overall this is one of the better dates he’s been on, really. He’s already looking hopefully forward to another.


	3. the one with the prettiest of views

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have been dating, and they finally have the rematch from their first meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating changes for this chapter! I did not originally know we were getting dirty, but uh. Buck is a sassy fuck and he wants what he wants.
> 
> Winterhawk Bingo Square: Man-Bun Bucky

Something about Clint seeing him in the midst of one of his worst moments and then just… being the same flirty disaster as always makes things easier for Bucky. They make plans to hang out, and though Bucky has to fight nerves down every time, it goes well. Once he sees Clint he forgets what in the world he could have worried about in the face of Clint’s sunshine grin. They talk about everything and nothing, Clint never pushing but Bucky telling him all sorts of things he hadn’t imagined he could tell someone outside of his therapist. He listened intently when Bucky haltingly explained his fear of vehicles after his accident, and hadn’t judged, just pulled him into what must have been the most comfortable hug Bucky had ever felt. 

Clint is still free and easy with his touches, and Bucky knows he’s getting addicted to the feeling of strong calloused hands roaming his body. Clint kisses carefully at first, like he’s afraid Bucky might pull away, just soft brushes of their lips together at the end of a date. After a few weeks of playful dates ending in nearly chaste kisses, Bucky needs more, though he isn’t quite sure how to ask for it. His therapist insists that just asking would probably be the way to go. He doesn’t bother asking anyone else, because it’s really hard to ignore the same advice from multiple people. ‘Buck up, Barnes’, he thinks and immediately snorts at himself. 

Instead of the logical route, Bucky texts Clint to set up the rematch they had joked about on their first meeting. He tries not to work himself up too much about how he’s going to manage to get to an actual rifle range. Before he can really get spiraled into worry Clint is already texting him back all giddy excitement with a few pictures where he’d set up for them in his archery area, including a small selection of handguns and what appears to be a pair of old hunting rifles. Bucky’s heart does a concerning little flip-flop at how much effort Clint is willing to put into making him comfortable. They figure out a good date for it, and Bucky tries not to swallow his tongue when Clint sends him a selfie with a thumbs up and a distinct lack of shirt. 

Once the day comes, Bucky is out of his door in record time. He spent the previous night setting up his outfit in advance. Between the black skinny jeans, probably a size too small tank top that shows off every muscle in his back, and his favorite pair of converse, he thinks he’s managed to ride the fine line between casual and alluring. He turns from locking up his front door and runs straight into a wall of solid warmth that resolves into Clint when he manages to actually look up. 

“Clint?” he squeaks out a little dumbly, eyes locked on the soft curve of Clint’s laughing mouth.

“Yeah sweetheart, sorry to startle you. Thought we could walk together?” he’s grinning and leans down to kiss Bucky’s cheek softly before handing him a thermos of what’s definitely got to be coffee, knowing Clint.

Bucky ignores the blush that blooms across his face and tips up on his toes to kiss Clint back, just managing to brush against the side of his lips. He takes Clint’s hand easily, tries not to stare too openly at the way his eyes light up, and grins up at the blonde. “Yes, please. I’d like that.” 

Bucky doesn’t recall much of how they actually make their way to the range, he’s far too preoccupied stealing glances at Clint, who seems to have also dressed to impress. His pants only have one rip across the knee, and fit against every curve of his thighs like they were painted on. He’s wearing an actual button up shirt for the first time since Bucky’s known him, although most of the top buttons are undone to reveal a thin purple tank top underneath. He’s got the sleeves rolled up and how exactly is it legal to have forearms that attractive? The fading bruise across one of his eyes does nothing to detract from the overall devastation Bucky is feeling just by looking at him. 

When they arrive, Clint unlocks the door and bows with an exaggerated flourish to allow Bucky to enter before him. Not much about the range has changed, just a few different targets at the end of the lanes they had used on the first day they met along with a bag containing the guns Clint had sent him a picture of earlier. And somewhat confusingly, a few strings of fairy lights are hung haphazardly. When Bucky asks, Clint just shrugs, “I mean, it’s a date right? Gotta try to be a little romantic for ya’” he looks a little shy about it, so Bucky doesn’t push. 

Besides, he’s got a plan to follow. Once they’ve got themselves settled into their lanes, he taps Clint’s shoulder to get his attention. As casually as he can manage, Bucky drawls, “Should we bet on it, darlin’?” 

Clints eyes widen a little at the pet name, but he’s grinning so Bucky figures it’s alright. “What are we betting, Buck?” 

Bucky takes a few moments to pretend to think it over, casually wrapping his hair up in a bun as he does so. He enjoys the way Clint’s eyes follow his movements, even for something as simple as pulling up his hair. “Hmmm, I’d say a coffee but you won’t stop buying me those anyhow.” he gives Clint another moment of peace before he gathers up his courage to say, “How about a hand job?”

Clint blinks and his mouth falls open a little. Clint is as still as Bucky’s ever seen him, and right around the time he starts to worry he may have crossed some unseen line, Clint seems to reboot and laughs heartily. “You’re on, Buckaroo!” There’s a little wild light in Clint’s cornflower blue eyes and Bucky has to wipe his suddenly sweaty hands on his jeans before picking up the handgun in his lane. 

Once they’ve both got their ear protection firmly in place, Bucky settles into the focused mindset he always gets with a good weapon, and shoots as carefully as he ever has in his life. He’s immensely pleased with himself at the outcome, even without getting closer to the targets to check, he knows every shot went true. He’s grinning up a storm when he looks over to Clint’s target and sees a few holes well off from the center. Then he meets Clint’s eyes and gasps softly at what he sees there. There’s only a thin ring of blue left around his widened pupils, and his lips look like he’s been biting them the entire time they were shooting. 

Bucky barely has time to set down his gun before Clint is pushing into his space, those big hands gripping his hips almost bruisingly tight. Clint pulls him in even closer, nearly lifting him to get at his lips. This is worlds away from the way Clint had kissed him before. Now he’s almost demanding, all teeth and tongue and Bucky feels like he’s melting against the taller man’s body. It’s all he can do to wrap his arms around Clint’s incredible shoulders and hold on as Clint works his way down his neck with small bites, tongue following to soothe the small hurts as he goes. Bucky whimpers and Clint pulls back a little, concern across his flushed features.

“Too much, baby?” He’s still got a grip on Bucky’s hip, but his other hand is petting soothingly down his side.

Bucky whimpers again at the touch, but he manages to cobble together a few words, “No, please, Clint?” he punctuates the barely-a-sentence with a grind of his hips, showing Clint exactly how excited he’s gotten. 

“Okay, I’ve got you Buck,” he’s grinning again, and this time when he grips Bucky he does lift him, and Bucky wraps his legs easily around Clint’s waist. He barely has time to marvel at the strength in Clint’s arms to be carrying him like this before Clint is setting him gently to one of the soft blue tumbling mats that line parts of the range. Being so casually moved around sets off some new desire Bucky wasn’t aware of until it was Clint was doing it, and Bucky is needily trying to press himself up to meet Clint before he’s gently but firmly pushed back. 

“Let me take care of you, huh?” Clint’s voice is low and wrecked like he’s the one laid out and panting, but his hands are steady when they undo Bucky’s pants. Clint carefully works the clothes off of Bucky’s body until he’s laying bare and blushing under him. He leans down and starts pressing kisses all along Bucky’s neck and collarbones, runs his hands soothingly along the planes of Bucky’s chest like he’s memorizing them. Bucky can’t help but squirm at the almost worshipful way Clint is touching him, it feels like his whole body is finally alive after so long. When he manages to pry his eyes open to look at the gorgeous man above him, he realizes Clint is still entirely clothed. He reaches out a hand to Clint’s lightly stubbled jaw to bring his attention back up, “Wait.. wanna see you.”

Clint all at once looks shy again, which makes Bucky chuckle considering the confidence he had just a moment ago. Rather than answer, Clint just sheds his clothes in record time, nearly tripping himself on a wayward pant leg. Bucky shivers when Clint carefully kneels over him again, not entirely from the slight chill. The big goofy blonde he’s been falling for easily with every text and stupid joke is also the most gorgeous person he’s ever seen. He’s lean and muscular, his skin is golden tanned and there’s dustings of freckles across his shoulders. Even the lighter dashes of healed scars are beautiful to Bucky, and he’s fiercely glad he managed to ask to see Clint this way. 

He reaches up to pull Clint to him again, and rolls his hips for good measure. Clint immediately gets back with the program, those big amazing hands finally drifting where Bucky desperately needs them. Clint takes them both in hand and Bucky loses himself in the sensation as they both thrust and slide together. Every noise from Clint above him pushes Bucky closer to the edge, and it's not long before he’s shaking with the intensity of it. He’s panting Clint’s name quietly against his mouth as they messily kiss each other, both a bit too lost to have any grace about it. Clint groans loudly and shudders, and his hand around Bucky is suddenly slicker, and Bucky is helpless but to follow him over the edge. Clint barely manages to shift himself to the side before he’s collapsing, still partially on top of Bucky. After a few minutes of panting and Clint’s hand absently petting his chest, Bucky starts to chuckle. Clint lifts his head and makes a small questioning noise.

“I kinda think we both might have won that contest.” Bucky grins dopily over at Clint and in another moment they’re both giggling, and Clint is leaning back in to press more soft kisses over Bucky’s face. They manage to collect themselves enough to clean up and get their clothes back on, and the whole time Clint is taking little moments to run his hands over Bucky and stealing kisses. Bucky is definitely gone on this guy, and there’s no way he could give him up now. He realizes he doesn’t have to around the time they’ve got their shoes back on, and wraps Clint in a crushing hug. 

Clint is grinning and pressing a kiss to the top of his mussed up hair when he asks, “Wanna come spend the night at my place?”

“Can we make more bets?” Bucky mumbles into Clint’s chest and they’re both laughing again when Clint grabs his hand and practically drags him out the door to take him home.


End file.
